


Until then we'll have to muddle through somehow

by greyorchids



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Writing & Publishing, Ben Solo is a Mess, Christmas Fluff, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Happy Ending, Rey is a spitfire, Unresolved Sexual Tension, holiday smut, that gets very resolved, tros spoilers by proxy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:55:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21936334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyorchids/pseuds/greyorchids
Summary: Christmas themed one-shot where Rey is mouthy, and Ben Solo is secretly living for it. (And then not-so-secretly). Happy holidays!-“So you’re the one who keeps shredding my work into an unrecognizable mess.” Ben Solo’s voice is nothing if not recognizable. Rey freezes in place, slowly turning to face him. She forces a smile onto her lips. Nice to meet you too, jerk.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 78
Kudos: 1117
Collections: Dev’s Reylo Favorites





	Until then we'll have to muddle through somehow

**Author's Note:**

> AN: No beta! Written on my phone in-between getting yelled at by my mom for being on my phone during Christmas celebrations. Also, I am actually team Jewish!Ben Solo, however I didn't have the ability to research properly and I decided I will do a Hanukkah inspired fic in 2020. I am Canadian so expect the letter u added into words at random.
> 
> TW: TROS spoilers, kind of. Yikes, fam, TROS was a rollercoaster, amiright?

Rey hits the printer with too much force, “Work, dammit.” Her mumbling drifts off as the old and enormous printer whirs to life. She exhales and runs her hands through her hair, pulling it into a bun and snapping the hair tie into place. The Christmas wrapping paper from the company secret Santa is still in the bin, the bows and ribbons creating a merry avalanche. 

As page after page spits out into the tray, Rey lets the repetitive sound hypnotize her. It’s Friday afternoon, she’s had a long week, and she’s been on autopilot since she got to work. She glances at her watch - it’s after four, she’s on the home stretch - when the air in the copy room is displaced, sending a chill up her spine. 

“So _you’re_ the one who keeps shredding my work into an unrecognizable mess.” Ben Solo’s voice is nothing if not recognizable. Rey freezes in place, slowly turning to face him. She forces a smile onto her lips. _Nice to meet you too, jerk._

It is an odd juxtaposition. He’s the very definition of tall, dark, and handsome, and yet he seems to have found a way to bury it all in favour of _rude, miserable, and disagreeable._

Rey tries to remain upbeat, “I wouldn’t call it unrecognizable -” 

“I certainly would.” He interjects, annoyance and frustration already falling off of him in waves. It puts her on the defensive. She switches gears and tries a sympathetic approach. 

“Most authors are sensitive about the edits that -”

“It has nothing to do with being sensitive. It has everything to do with the integrity of my work. Or lack thereof, as you’d have it.” He levels a stare at her that seems to shatter time and space. Rey gathers her wits with a sharp inhale.

Her voice is low and she surprises herself with the even tone she takes on, “That’s the _second time_ you’ve interrupted me, Mr. Solo.” His nose crinkles at the title and it spurs something malevolent in her chest. Suddenly feeling as brazen as he seems to, she turns back to the printer and collects her items slowly. 

Before he responds she continues, “If you want to discuss the much-needed edits I’ve made to your work, you can feel free to set up an appointment with me at my convenience.” It feels like she’s vibrating out of her skin and her discontent becomes eroded with fear. _Get out of here before you make this worse_. 

She spares him a short and sweet smile before walking out of the copy room and down the hall, shock and nerves brimming over the top of her sanity. Shutting her door tightly behind her, she lets out a deep breath and massages her temples. Not her finest moment, she is embarrassed to admit. 

God, he’s as arrogant as she’s heard and she _still_ let him get under her skin. _Why couldn’t you have just killed him with kindness?_

She knows the answer. 

_Because he hasn’t earned it._

📚📚📚

It’s somewhat of a surprise when she opens her inbox on Monday morning. 

> From: [ bsolo@SkywalkerPress.com ](mailto:bsolo@SkywalkerPress.com)
> 
> To: [ rjohnson@SkywalkerPress.com ](mailto:rjohnson@SkywalkerPress.com)
> 
> **Subject: Appointment Request, at Your Convenience**
> 
> Ms. Johnson, 
> 
> Per your request, please let me know when you have the availability to discuss your edits of my most recent submission. 
> 
> B.

She stares at the email with a wince. She doesn’t actually _want_ to have a one-on-one discussion with this asshole, and she’s a little unnerved that he took her up on the offer. He called her bluff, and that’s…annoying. 

Clicking through her calendar for the week she humours the idea of telling him she’s booked until after the holidays. But it’s probably best to get it over with. The last thing she wants is to be dwelling on this as she sits down with her abysmally depressing turkey dinner for one. 

She hits the reply button before she can talk herself out of it.

📚📚📚

Rey doesn’t mean to, but she ends up arriving nearly 10 minutes late to their scheduled meeting. As she opens the door to the boardroom she catches the unmistakable motion of Solo checking his watch before he meets her eyes, clearly taking her late arrival very personally. 

“I apologize for being lat-” She is cut off by the deep cut of his voice. 

“Maybe we can just cut the pleasantries, and you can review my response to your notes.” Solo slides over his latest draft, filled with post-its and red markings. Rey feels her temperature rise and suddenly she understands that this meeting will not be the peaceful exchange she convinced herself it could be. 

It’s more common than you’d think for writers to prefer edits and notes via paper - there is something about the digital process that raises their ire. Solo has resisted the most out of anyone she’s worked with. 

“As you like it.” She mumbles, more to herself than to him, sliding into a seat and shrugging off her coat. She begins to flip through the pages and feels her brows knit.

“I see you didn’t appreciate the edits I made to your opening chapter.” Rey lowers the papers enough to make eye contact. His face is stone. 

“You’ve completely missed the point.” Solo volleys and Rey smiles without warmth. 

“What is it that you think I don’t understand?” she begins, and places the pages neatly in front of her, “that your antagonist is clearly embroiled in a dichotomy of good versus evil, we are meant to think he is some sort of villain and that, really, he’s a good guy?” 

Solo clenches his jaw, “It isn’t that black and white.” He begins to sit forward and Rey laughs softly. 

“You kill him off in the last chapter - that is just lazy and worst of all; unoriginal.” 

Solo tries to explain, “It is supposed to be a poetic expression of-”

“It is boring and renders his whole arc as inconsequential.” He meets Rey’s eyes as she speaks and she feels her insides clench.

“This is _my_ ending. It works. It paves the way for the protagonist to move on and create something completely for herself.” His voice has just a slight inflection of mania.

Rey sighs, “Well, it’s not my job to tell you if your story is any good. It’s my job to edit it, so it is as good as it's going to get.”

 _“As good as it's going to get?”_ Solo’s voice is an affronted boom in her ears, “What kind of…” He trails off, unable to find the words to speak. 

“Your introductory chapter is too obvious, contains too much purple prose and it treats the reader like they are reading a YA novel.”

“I couldn’t disagree more-” Solo continues and Rey cuts him off. 

“Yes, that is well understood, hence this meeting. But it is my _job_ to have these conversations. No one’s first draft is perfect.” 

She can practically feel his eyes on her now, narrowed and dark. She glances up to meet his glare, hoping that she looks unmoved.

“How _old_ are you?” He asks with as much disdain and offence as she imagines he is capable of. She bristles at the question. 

“Careful, Solo. If I didn’t know any better I’d say your sexism is showing.” This time she can see the surprise take over his face. 

“What did you just say to me?” He puffs out and Rey leans back in her chair, arms crossed. 

“Do you think you would have asked me that question if I were a man?” She sniffs and pulls imaginary lint off her sweater. 

Solo is quick to jump on her words, “I don’t know. In this scenario are you a man that looks like a 16-year-old girl?” His voice is low, but she can feel the growing anger behind it. For a reason she can’t explain she loses all sense of control. 

Rey’s grin is saccharine, adopting a plainly sarcastic expression of pity, “I know it must be hard for you, having been born into one of the most prestigious literary families of the western world, to be able to recognize your privilege _and_ your bias. I suppose maybe I can help you with more than just the structural inconsistencies in your writing.”

Stunned, Solo shakes his head, “Are you this _combative_ with every writer on staff,” he asks suddenly finding the situation too unbelievable to be real, “or have I offended you more than you’re clearly capable of offending yourself?” 

Rey’s head tilts, “Most of the writers who receive my notes do so graciously,” she sits forward, leaning on the table, “regardless of whether or not they agree, they respect the process. You, Mr. Solo, have no respect for anything. And most definitely not for anyone _.”_ What has gotten into her? Is she trying to fight this guy in the parking lot? Suddenly she understands the _cash me outside_ girl a little _too_ well. 

He stares, eyes burning, and she sees her opportunity to exit. An opportunity she suddenly realizes she needs to take, _immediately_. 

“If I can offer a piece of advice; reread my comments. I can assure you that I didn’t add them to amuse myself.” She pushes the stack of paperback towards him and stands, not bothering to wait for his response as she picks up her jacket and leaves the room in a single fluid motion.

Had she taken the time to look back, Rey would have seen the human shell of Ben Solo, his mind blown somewhere across the galaxy above, and no less than 38 million kilometres from the closing boardroom door in front of him. 

📚📚📚

  
  


The company-wide Christmas party is a hot ticket for most of the staff. For one day a year, everyone gets a free pass to liquor up and dance the night away on the company’s dime. Rey is a little less enthusiastic this year for a number of reasons, as follows; 

  1. Finn and Poe are in Hawaii. Living their best lives, no doubt.
  2. Rey can’t afford to go to Hawaii, and
  3. This makes for a very bitter best friend left behind. 



Not that she isn’t _so very_ happy for them. But their Jane Austin-caliber love story presses against all of the tender spots inside of her. 

She fills her virgin-eggnog and catches Luke’s eye. He smiles in that broad, infectious way, and she finds herself smiling just as wide by the time he gets to her.

“Rey, you look great. I’m glad you’re here.” Luke is holding a plate of breaded shrimp and staring out at the crowd with a look of affection. 

“Thank you. And of course, I wouldn’t miss it.” She manages to sound sincere, thankfully, and he nods, already speaking to someone just behind her.

“Ben! Come here you giant,” he is talking to himself, “ - hey have you met Rey?” Luke’s pulling him over by the arm and for a few seconds, Rey thinks she might implode. 

“We’ve met.” She blurts out, the unbearable weight of seeing him is splintering her thought process. 

“Oh,” Luke only deflates for a fraction of a second, “well then that’s even better. You know Ben, Rey is an emerging author herself, be careful or she might just outsell you in 2020.” Luke laughs at his joke and then catches the arm of Amilyn Holdo, already halfway to the dance floor before his voice stops ringing in her ears. 

Ben Solo’s face is creased with darkness, which flatters him quite perfectly. His all-black suit makes his imposing stature all the more daunting. Rey spares him a look, which he meets, much to her surprise. Her pulse spikes and suddenly it feels _very claustrophobic in here._

In a bid to escape, Rey raises her glass, “Mr. Solo.” She toasts as a way of saying goodbye and catches his grimace as she turns on her heel. His voice cuts through the bass of the music around them with unworldly clarity. 

“Are you sure that’s it?” He asks, cool and collected and perfectly tempered. She turns back slowly, fear pooling in her stomach.

“Is _what_ it?” She asks, still trying to keep levity and calm in her voice.

“Oh, I just wanted to be sure you had adequate time to address my many perceived failings. I don’t think you got through everything last time.” He takes a slow sip of his scotch and she feels her face flush. _Wonderful._

Breathing as normally as she can manage, Rey attempts to square her shoulders, “I’m sorry, _Mr. Solo_. Have I offended you?” Her voice singsongs and his jaw clenches. 

“You’ve got an audacious mouth on you, you know that?” He asks, stepping just an inch towards her and Rey feels him in her toes. 

Rey shrugs, sipping her drink as calmly as her racing heart will allow, “It’s one of my many, many positive attributes.” She turns and disappears into the crowd before he can observe her exploding into the atmosphere. 

📚📚📚

Rey’s car engine attempts to turn over with an awful screech as she tries the key for the third time. The parking lot is a near-ghost town and the night air creeps into her skin. 

“Shit.” She curses, her breath clouding in front of her. Rey shivers as her car sputters and she hits the steering wheel. It’s after midnight on a Friday. Uber is going to be surge-pricing her out of next month’s rent, she’s sure of it. 

Suddenly a knock hits her window, and she jumps in her seat. 

_Oh fuck._

She knows who it is by the excessive amount of black surrounding the large hand filling her vision. _Please, Christmas miracles. Please exist, and teleport me out of this car._

Feeling a certain numb acceptance, Rey rolls her window down a few inches. 

“Need a boost?” Solo’s voice is dark and she detects a certain haughty attitude at discovering her in this position. 

She doesn’t know how to react. She is filled equally with dread, gratitude and embarrassment. Is it possible to die from excess emotions? She may be the first case. 

“Uh,” her inelegant response makes her wince, “maybe.” Rey’s voice is quiet and Solo smiles. She could be wrong, but she thinks he might be beaming with satisfaction. 

“Pop your front, I’ll bring my car around.” He says without room for argument and she doubts he even sees her nod in agreement. _I am the architect of my own hellscape,_ she thinks with a growing pit of despair.

She releases the hood and exits her car with a silent prayer. It’s so cold. Of course she is wearing something dainty and not at all practical. Her legs instantly burn in the cold and she can feel her hands stiffen against the wind. Rey gets the strut in place before she is full-body shivering and a sleek black Audi pulls up next to her. She’s rolling her eyes before she can stop herself. 

Solo slides out of the car in a fluid motion.

“Are you insane, get back in your car before you freeze to death.” He chastises while lifting his hood, jumper cables in hand. Rey wants to snap at him, but she’s too cold to argue. She silently moves to her door and hears him mumble under his breath, “...not so mouthy now, are you?”

She stops, and despite the frigid air in her lungs, she calls out to him.

“Did you say something?” Her voice is accusing and he doesn’t flinch. 

I said,” he steps around her hood, eyes on fire, “you aren’t so mouthy now, _are you?”_ He smiles, a smug look taking over his face as he stares her down. Rey is too cold to blush.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about _Mr. Solo.”_ And she slips into her car with a huff.

She tries to keep her facial expression neutral, but after 20 minutes of attempting to boost the car, her anxiety starts breaking through. Hand in her face, Solo opens the door, crouching to be at her eye-level.

“I think your battery needs to be replaced.” She nods at his voice, not trusting herself to speak. She knew this was bound to happen but was hopeful she had another month or so to squeeze out of the now-defunct paperweight taking up space under her hood. 

Sighing, she rests her head back in her seat, “I’ll grab an Uber,” she opens her eyes and is surprised at how close he is to her, “thank you for trying.” She says it quietly - probably too quietly for how difficult of a time she’s given him.

He watches her for a moment before his voice brings her back to reality, “I can drop you off.” 

She is caught off guard by the offer, and she has to make sure her mouth doesn’t fall open before she replies. 

“It’s fine, really.” The wind picks up as she speaks and Solo glances around the now-empty parking lot. He runs a hand through his hair and she shivers, her cheap cocktail dress doing nothing to keep her warm. The only reason she is sober was to save money on getting home. 

“Is this going to be an argument, or will you just get in my car?” He asks, his eyes dancing behind the shadow of night. 

Rey does a double-take, _“It’s going to be an argument!_ I don’t need you to give me a ride.” She pulls up the Uber app with shaking hands, and Solo watches her punch in her address. 

> 36 minutes
> 
> $43 - 52 

Her jaw clenches, and Solo sighs, “I can’t leave you here at this time of night.” His tone is incredulous, and he is beginning to get impatient.

“I can take care of myself,” Rey spits, and then trying to remain non-combative, “but thank you. I’ve got this.” 

As she goes to confirm the ride her screen goes black. _You’ve got to be kidding._ Biting her lip, she tries to get the screen to come back to life. It is a futile gesture. 

“Looks like you and batteries aren’t getting along today.” His satisfied voice clears through her awestruck horror. _The phone had to die now?_ He stands and extends his hand to help her out of the car. 

“Let’s go. It’s freezing out here,” he ducks his head back down to her, _“please.”_

Ignoring his extended hand, she swings out of her seat, wrapping her thin jacket around herself as she shivers.

“Fine. Okay.” Rey whispers, and Solo opens the passenger side door without further baiting. 

It takes about a minute for the heated seat and warm air to thaw Rey out enough to think straight. The car smells like him. A rich and inviting smell that is both soothing and highly alarming. She rubs her nose and breathes through her mouth. 

It is an uneventful car ride, save for Rey nearly falling asleep on the soft leather seat. When he pulls up to her small (but adorable) duplex she puts on her most amicable smile.

“Thank you,” she turns towards him but can’t bear to meet his eyes, “and I’m sorry if I ruined your night.” Rey bolts out of the car with inhuman speed and as she goes to close the door, she _just_ catches the deep thrum of his voice.

_“You didn’t.”_

📚📚📚

What kind of psychopath is willingly at work on Christmas Eve? Rey can hear the clicking of a keyboard somewhere in the writer’s lounge but ignores it most of the day. 

Some staff like to do a half-day to clear out their inboxes and head into the holidays with a clean slate. Rey isn’t a workaholic, but she isn’t in a rush to get anywhere in particular so she lingers. It’s after two when curiosity gets the best of her and she meanders around, wishing anyone left in the office a happy holiday and stopping to chat with the FedEx guy for a solid five minutes when he drops off a few packages. 

As she heads into the writer’s lounge to poke fun at the overachiever, she stops dead in her tracks. A familiar contrast of solid black against the modern and minimalist white backdrop of the lounge fills her vision.

“Oh, Mr. Solo,” she raises her hand in greeting, “I was coming by to tell however was still here to go home.” She explains, wanting to clarify she didn’t _knowingly_ come talk to him.

He breaks his wince to finally address it, “No one calls me _Mr._ Solo,” and he acts like the word itself is painful, “I’d love to go home but my editor has given me my weight in notes and I am trying to decipher her illegible cursive.” His tone is lighter than his words and Rey primly clears her throat.

“What would you prefer I call you, then?” She ignores his jab. Solo meets her eyes and she feels the world tilt a bit on its axis. 

“Anything but _that.”_ He goes back to his pages, scanning over the rows of text. 

“Can I help?” She asks, sitting across from him. She can do this. She can play nice. He raises an eyebrow. 

“You’d like to help?” He asks, sitting up and taking his pen out of his mouth. 

“I owe you, I think.” She doesn’t give him time to banter. Rey pulls the manuscript towards herself and takes a look.

“You’re still on chapter one?” She asks and then waves her hand in front of her face as if she can erase what she just said.

“Sorry, I meant to say - you’re on chapter one.” He doesn’t stop staring at her as she busies herself in the pages, getting up to speed on what he’s looking at. 

“Okay, so what’s slowing you down?” 

“You have a suggestion _every other word.”_ He explains calmly, sitting back and rolling his neck. 

“I think these are valid suggestions,” she scans the pages, “I stand by each of them.”

“Oh, you do?” He asks moving forward, pulling the papers back, he opens his mouth to argue when a loud voice breaks into the room.

“Rey!” Luke calls out and when he sees Solo next to her smiles a little wider, “And Ben. Two for one.” 

“Hi, Luke.” Rey smiles and thanks him silently for the interruption. 

“Rey - you don’t have plans this Christmas do you?” He asks and she grits her teeth. Oh good, her humiliating lack of family or friends will be a fun nugget to discuss publicly.

“Not formally, no -”

“Ah, wonderful. Will you please join us this Christmas? Leia is hosting her annual dinner and she insists you come. As do I.” Luke all but winks at her and she thinks she hears Solo choke behind her. 

“Oh, Luke - that is so nice of you, really. But my car is out of commission and I can’t get the part until the new year-”

“Ben can pick you up! Can’t you, Ben?” 

Solo exhales, “I wasn’t planning on going this year.” He answers, knowing he has protested for the sake of it. He’s already defeated. 

“Nonsense.” You have to come, and so does Rey. Be there by 4 p.m. No gifts. Does that work?” Luke looks at Rey and she manages to say _yes_ , although it happens in such a whirlwind she is left stunned a moment later when he waves goodbye and she realizes she is staring at the floor. 

“You don’t have to pick me up,” Rey starts, “I will talk to Luke and -"

“Why am I not surprised,” he shakes his head, “I’ll pick you up. Dropping you off will give me an excuse to leave early, so I should be thanking you.” 

Rey nods, still acclimatizing to what just happened. She smiles and focuses a look at Solo, “See, I _am_ helping you!” 

He breathes out slowly and spins a manuscript page towards her, “And what does this even mean?” 

Rey looks at the page for half a second, “Oh yes, this entire paragraph is nonsense.” She looks up to see him pinching his nose and she rephrases, _“I mean_ , I think you can remove this paragraph - you explain this concept further on in the chapter and it makes more sense there.” 

Solo breathes in, and then out, before taking the page back and striking a red line through the offending paragraph. 

📚📚📚

It is 3:30 p.m. Christmas day when Solo knocks at her door. Even his knock is imposing and it creates a vibration of uncertainty under her skin. With one last look in the mirror, she opens the door and tries her best to look cheerful.

“Thanks again.” She says by way of greeting and pulls on her scarf. Solo eyes the wine and chocolates with thinly veiled annoyance.

“They said no gifts.” He begins walking to his car and Rey scrambles to lock up, all but hopping down the stairs to catch up to him.

“It isn’t a gift, it is a gesture of thanks for inviting me.” Rey ignores his frown and buckles her seat belt. 

“It’s a gift.”

“It’s called being a good guest,” she insists, fiddling with the hem of her jacket, “it is the least I can do for crashing Leia’s Christmas dinner.” 

“You’re not crashing it.” Solo quickly corrects and he drives smoothly out of her neighbourhood like he’s done it a million times, “she wouldn’t have invited you if she didn’t want you there. I would know.” 

Rey glances over. He is still mostly in black but is wearing jeans and it might as well be a neon jumpsuit. His jaw is set as he focuses on the road and Rey tries not to cause any further aggravation. 

As they pull up to Leia’s home, Rey’s jaw drops. The house is _beautiful._

“Is this where you grew up?” Her voice is just above a whisper.

“Unfortunately.” Solo replies, unbuckling his seat and Rey scowls at him. _Ungrateful jerk._ She follows him up the steps and he knocks on the door, his face creased as if he were about to enter the gates of hell.

“Ben!” The door flings open and Leia wraps herself around him. She looks so small pressed into his frame.

“Hi, mom.” He replies and she kisses his cheek. 

“You have a key, why do you insist on knocking?” Leia asks, but doesn’t give him time to respond, “And Rey! I am so glad you came. How’s work been? Hopefully, this one hasn’t given you much trouble.” She ushers them in and nods in Solo’s direction.

“Quite the opposite.” He grumbles, and Leia dismisses him with a wave of her hand.

“I made turkey and ham because I wasn’t sure which you preferred.” Leia grabs Rey’s arm and drags her into the house the second she has her shoes off, tossing Rey’s jacket into Solo’s chest.

Rey can hear him mumble to himself as he opens the closet door, _“I’m doing great mom, thanks for asking.”_

There must be at least 20 people here, mingling and lounging about, drinks in hand. Rey feels an inkling of self-consciousness - her jeans and red bodysuit seemed appropriate in her bedroom mirror, but among Leia’s guests, she feels like an under-dressed kid. She runs a Christmas sock-covered foot over the back of her calf. 

“Rey! Your hands are empty.” Luke comes up and presses a wine tumbler into her restless fingers. Rey accepts it without argument. Solo is her DD, so she might as well loosen up. 

“Thanks, Luke. Can I help you guys with anything?” Luke nods.

“Are you any good at making gravy? I dropped the boat and Leia banned me from the kitchen.” Rey laughs, her voice dancing around the room. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” 

It is less than an hour later when they gather around Leia’s gorgeous dining room table, the smell of Christmas flooding her senses. The table has been extended and is a humorously long stretch china and gold utensils. Rey is on her second glass of wine when she realizes the empty spot next to Solo at the table is meant for her. _Wonderful._

She slides in and accepts the giant bowl of salad from the guest to her left. 

“Nice socks.” Solo’s voice is low and as she turns her head she is confronted with two facts; Ben Solo gets flushed when he’s drunk. And Ben Solo _is drunk._ Rey sets down the salad bowl with a frown.

“What are you _doing,”_ she murmurs out of the corner of her mouth, “you said you would _drive me home.”_ Solo’s brows crease.

“I did say that, didn’t I?” His lazy smirk sets her annoyance level to 11. He takes an obnoxious gulp of wine to accentuate his point. “Don’t worry, I’ll pay for your cab.” He continues, filling his plate with enough salad to feed a family of six.

“A cab?” Leia calls out from the other end of the table, “Don’t be silly! We have plenty of space. Rey you can take Ben’s old room. Ben, you can take the couch.” Leia smiles at Solo, who is glaring at Rey. 

“Of course I will.” His voice is swallowed into his glass. 

Rey beams at Leia, “That is very sweet of you, thank you.” 

“So you _do_ know how to be polite,” Solo speaks under his breath, and Rey quirks her eyebrow at him. He smiles and takes an inhuman sized bite out of a roll.

“I was never _impolite_ to you.” She whispers back, her chest and face heating. 

“What would you call it, then?” He asks, angling his body towards her. She shifts in her seat. _So, this is going to happen here, huh, Solo?_

“I would call it being assertive and if either of us were impolite, _it was you,”_ Rey hisses, “you didn’t even introduce yourself to me, you just started _reaming me out.”_ Rey calmly takes a roll and begins spreading some butter across it. 

Solo doesn’t reply, but his gaze lingers on her. Rey pointedly ignores him, but she can feel the heat from his body which makes her skin as red as her bodysuit. 

By the time she starts loading her plate with mashed potatoes, Solo has taken off his sweater, and his giant arms fill her vision as he passes dishes around the table. Rey can’t be sure, but it feels like the room is a thousand degrees. 

“You know, normally editors make a point to come by and talk _before_ they send notes.” Solo leans into her ear and Rey fights a full-body shudder. 

“Is that so?” She asks quietly, eyes on her plate. 

“Yes. It isn’t uncommon to have a few different conversations to make sure everyone is on the same page about the tone and intention -” He is cut off by Rey’s patronizing tut.

“Mr. Solo...are you upset that I didn't give you enough attention?” Rey interrupts and locks Solo with her stare. He grits his teeth, but she doesn’t miss the flash of surprise across his features. 

“I _told you_ not to call me that.” He doesn’t sound that upset, which could be because his voice drawls just a little too much, or because he’s avoiding the question. She feels the familiar rise of confidence and insanity stir within her. She turns towards him, her knees narrowly missing his never-ending legs. 

“Well, you have me now,” she pointedly leans in and focuses on him. “my complete and undivided attention, _Mr. Solo._ So how can I _help you?”_ His pupils dilate and Rey feels a lightning bolt of fear that maybe he is going to knock the table to the floor. Instead, very calmly, he runs his hands over his legs and presses his mouth into a line.

 _“Ms. Johnson,_ may I speak to you in the kitchen for a moment?” His voice is low and dark, and unmistakable anxiety pulses through her. It’s like being called into the principal's office. She keeps her face impassive and exhales normally (she hopes).

With a light smile, she motions to the kitchen, “After you.” Watching him stand is a totally surreal experience as she is eye level with his belt and suddenly the whole room is spinning. As he steps out of the way she stands, smiling at no one as the guests talk and eat and don’t pay them any attention. 

Rey tries not to stare at his back as he makes his way into the kitchen, pots and pans littering the countertops. He comes to an abrupt halt and she nearly runs into him. When he turns around, she feels him towering over her, a hand running through his hair.

“I have _never in my life_ met a more infuriating, difficult, _mouthy-”_ Solo’s whisper-yell makes Rey smile and she runs her hands up to her hips, staring at him as he realizes she isn’t taking this very seriously. 

“Are you doing this to me on _purpose?”_ He asks, exasperated, and Rey’s mouth falls open in disbelief. 

_“Me!?_ I’m not doing anything! What are you even _talking_ about?” She can’t help but get in his face, which may be a mistake, considering the way her stomach falls out of her body. The line of his jaw and the proximity of him makes her brain stutter. 

“You’re _driving. me. crazy.”_ He grits out between his teeth and she can see the colour of his eyes, smell his cologne, and in all the galaxies combined there isn’t enough space for her to contain the explosion that erupts out of her chest. Oh god, she’s not really about to-

But she does. 

And it takes two inches of movement to remove the distance between them when she realizes she has pressed up on her tip-toes, her lips meeting his with a tentative and warm pressure. His body stills and she freezes in turn, pulling away slightly with an ice-cold feeling building inside of her.

Before Rey rests back on her heels, she can feel him surge forward, mouth on hers with certainty and intentionality that makes her head spin. It's a supernova, the way his hands find a home in her hair and around her ass, and when he pulls her against him she thinks she might actually _burst._ His lips are as soft and luscious as they look and it is impossible to ignore the intense heat he creates anywhere he touches. 

A small gasp of air is pulled into her lungs and he swears, turning them so he can push her against the countertop. Rey can feel his heartbeat against her chest and it is sinful the way her body bends to his touch. 

_“You’re driving me crazy.”_ Solo repeats into her mouth like an echo and she shivers. The press of his mouth isn’t enough, and soon she’s got her hand in his hair, pulling him closer as she finally gets his tongue in her mouth. It’s delicious, the way he bites and sucks at her lips - she can’t even gain enough sense to properly reciprocate. But she manages to tug at his belt which he seems to appreciate very much as his grip on her tightens to a nearly painful degree. She can feel every movement of muscle behind his t-shirt and jeans and she _groans-_

“When you dears are done, please bring out the whipped cream, I only have two hands.” Leia’s voice makes them jump apart as if they have been burned, heaving chests and terrified limbs thrumming in place. Leia smiles warmly at them and makes her way out of the kitchen, a pie in each of her hands.

They stand still, in twin forms of shock, staring at the archway Leia walked out of. Rey’s head spins. _What the fuck._

Her mind is blank and her mouth feels like it is positively throbbing. Rey runs her hands through her hair to try and get it in order. She stares at the kitchen floor, her whole body beginning to shake. 

Solo clears his throat and speaks first, “I am sorry, I don’t think I should have done that.” 

_“You didn’t,_ I did.” Rey corrects and finally makes eye contact with him. He looks like someone just made out with him and Rey feels her mouth go dry. 

“I can’t believe you’re _still arguing_ with me.” He is shaking his head, eyes unfocused. Rey feels a little bit numb and all but stumbles forward in an attempt to leave the kitchen. 

He catches her arm and Rey feels herself being pulled back against him, her entire body sighing in relief. His solid mass is an anchor and she finds herself gripping him reflexively.

“I’m not done _talking to you.”_ Solo bites into her lip and she is moaning into his mouth as it seals over her own. Something unholy washes over her and she presses a hand between them, palming him over his jeans. He groans into her neck and she gasps at the size of him. 

“Are you really trying to kill me in my mother’s kitchen?” He asks at her temple and she smiles, finally gaining enough wherewithal to pause and think rationally. 

  * _You are a guest in this house._
  * _It is Leia’s **Christmas dinner.**_
  * Get the whipped cream, idiot. 



Rey steps back and meets his eyes for a nanosecond. It fills her with pure fire and something she can’t identify, but it makes her legs weak.

“You’re right, I apologize,” she licks her lips, tasting him and nearly drowning in want at the realization.

 _“Now_ you apologize?” Solo asks with a dark look and she continues as if she hadn’t heard him. 

“I need to get away from you,” she says more to herself than him, and then to clarify, “at least until we can finish this _discussion_ properly.” He meets her eyes, a dancing want surely mirrored in the look she sends him before she turns and brings Leia her whipped cream, body buzzing to her core. 

📚📚📚

  
  


Leia doesn’t say anything, and Rey sits at the table as if she has a scarlet letter glowing on her forehead. The guests laugh with one another and Rey tries to follow along as Ben finally joins the action (no doubt waiting until he wasn’t breaking through his jeans). 

Dessert is passed around and Rey takes a serving of pumpkin _and_ apple pie - suddenly very interested in giving her mouth a distraction when she feels him lean over just slightly.

“I’m going to absolutely eviscerate you.” His innocuous tone makes her choke on her pie crust, and he laughs lightly beside her. She can only manage to stare at him, his crooked smile makes her heady with desire. 

Rey swallows, “I’m sorry, what was that?” She asks barely above a whisper. 

“I said, I am going to wreck you so deeply and so thoroughly that you’ll never be able to stomach being with anyone else.” Rey blinks, unable to stop from checking to see if anyone has heard the ludicrous shit coming out of his mouth. No one seems to. 

“And you said _my_ mouth was audacious,” she feels her body flush as she reaches for her wine, “if you have overestimated your skills in the bedroom as much as you’ve overestimated the quality of your writing, I wouldn’t be so sure.” 

Ben flexes his hand, laughing darkly, “You have no idea how good it will feel to make you eat your words as you beg for my cock.” His voice feels like pure vibration through her body and she shifts in her seat. _God, he’s a monster._

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” She replies as nonchalantly as she can. She is floored by a trillion things, and chief among them is the fact that he is arrogant enough to assume that she wants him that desperately, that they are going to have sex, and that he is right on both counts. 

  
  


📚📚📚

The after-dinner cocktails are torture, pure and simple. She and Ben are both pulled around the room to chat with guests, answering questions and nodding politely as people talk about inane things that Rey couldn’t care less about. She notices Ben’s eye catch on the portrait of Han hanging above the fireplace and she averts her eyes quickly so he can’t catch her staring. She glances at her phone, it is after 11 and shocked at how long they were eating for. Luke keeps everyone’s cups full and there is a range of inebriation among the guests. 

All Rey can think about is Ben Solo’s mouth. 

A couple of the guests shuffle upstairs to the guest rooms, and a few others call for cabs and the party begins to melt into a relaxed and hazy room of bloated human beings, barely staying awake. 

As Rey stifles a yawn, Luke calls out across the room, “Ben, why don’t you show Rey to her room.” And it feels like he was already barreling towards her before the suggestion. Rey doesn’t miss Leia’s smile as she pretends to listen to one the guests talk about the election.

“My pleasure.” He exhales and grabs Rey’s arm, taking the stairs two at a time. Rey basically has to run to keep up with him, and her heart starts pumping pure adrenaline through her body. 

“Will you slow down, I’m not going anywhere.” She calls out behind him and he moves _faster,_ ignoring her completely. 

At the end of one of the hallways, he all but pushes her through the door, closing it with a thud and Rey finds herself sealed between Ben’s body and the door behind them. She’s already grabbing for him as his lips find hers and a collective spiritual sigh of relief echoes through her chest. 

_Holy shit._

His mouth is hot and demanding and she feels like she can’t keep up. He groans into her when she pulls at him.

“For the love of God, be quiet, your mom is downstairs-” Rey tries to do the Right Thing, but the fight has no wind in its sails. 

“I think it is time you stopped telling me what to do.” And if the blinding baritone of his voice doesn’t electrocute her, his grinding body at her core certainly does. She gasps, desperate for air as he lines himself up with her fully clothed body. Her brain is short-circuiting and all she knows is, _he’s really fucking into this._

The thought makes her giddy and his body is a moving boulder of heat and electricity. A large hand slides across her back, reaching the base of her hair with a small tug and she nearly dissolves into it. His mouth slants over hers, and a sound of want catches in her throat. 

Ben swears, pulling them both away from the door and towards his bed blindly. Rey finds herself completely incapacitated - when he moves his lips down the column of her throat she sees white. Clutching at his shoulders, she presses her nose into his hair. She’s never been so worked up and suddenly every other kiss feels like rust in a world of diamonds. 

When her back hits the bed, she sighs, the immediate weight and warmth of him pressing her into his childhood bed. The thought makes her legs ache. 

A small nip of his teeth catches on her shoulder and her body jolts into Ben’s smiling mouth. 

“What is this?” Ben’s eyes are manic when he pulls back, tugging on a strap of her bodysuit, “how do I get it off of you?” 

Rey laughs, “It’s a bodysuit, so you’ll have to -” Ben hears all he needs to and immediately unbuttons her pants, dragging his hand over her centre and she nearly lifts off the bed. He tugs on her pants, pulling them off with little effort. Kneeling between her legs, Ben stares down at her, eyes wide.

“You’re so beautiful.” He exhales, and her chest burns. Her instinct is to discredit him but he leaves no time for conversation as he rips at the clasps, the fabric coming apart around her. Her most private parts are completely bare beneath him, and it makes her flush. 

Ben Solo is absolute madness. 

His mouth is on her before she can say a word and as his tongue slides through her folds she bucks into him. Her body is so sensitive to every movement, every touch, and he can _tell._ The rumble of his voice against her is a dangerous feeling. 

“You taste phenomenal.” Nothing is registering as sane, but it sends a ripple of relief through her at his praise. He bends her legs over his shoulders and licks deeper into her, his thumb sliding over her clit and pressing into her like he owns her flesh. 

“Fuck.” Rey’s gasp is too loud as her head hits the bed and she shifts under his weight. Are they really just going for it? Inside her head, it is a pure apocalypse. Alarm bells, raid sirens, flashing light - she’s losing it. He is a good kisser so maybe it shouldn’t be a surprise, but the way he licks and sucks at her is criminal. 

His fingers replace his mouth, circling the sensitive hub of nerves as his teeth bite into her inner thigh. She yelps, instinctively closing her legs on him which he delights in pressing apart, a low rumble in his chest that she immediately wants to hear for the rest of her life. Her legs shake slightly, and Ben can feel it through his shirt, a smile pressing into her sensitive skin.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I saw you bent over the photocopier.” He slides his mouth over her core and she swallowing a moan. She feels unbearably empty and her hand finds its way into his annoyingly beautiful hair, tugging at him without reason.

“Your delicious ass,” he is purring between her legs, “it was annihilating.” Rey can’t even think about opening her eyes, they are seared shut, his name dangerously close to falling out of her mouth. 

“And then you opened your _mouth,_ ” he continues, his thumb finding that rocking pressure on her clit that makes her light-headed, “and I realized how _fucked_ I was.” A lightning hot bolt of light pulses at her core and she feels herself fluttering against him, erratic breathing barely enough for her desperate lungs. Jesus.

Rey fists the sheets as the pressure begins to send her over the edge, her voice catching as she tries not to scream. 

“I want to hear you.” His voice glides over her skin, his hands and mouth devouring her whole. 

She can’t even form a thought, let alone a word, and so her strangled moan and frenzied breath fills his room and he hums, grip tightening and his mouth grinds her into orgasm. Rey rides out the feeling, Ben’s body anchoring her back to earth, and she reaches for him, unthinking. 

God her lungs are burning. 

He doesn’t give her a chance to recover as he begins peeling the bodysuit up and off of her frame with an annoyed grunt. Rey’s legs are shaking as his mouth seals over her skin, sucking on her hard enough to mark. Still kneeling between her legs, he runs a hand from her throat to her cunt and she arches into his fingers. 

“You’re perfect.” His voice is low and his eyes are dark. Rey meets his gaze, the blown-out and hazy look he pins her with sends claws of want into her limbs. 

“I thought you said I was _combative_.” She says to stop herself from saying something much worse. 

His lip is twisted in a smirk, “You _are_ combative.” He drops to her throat and bites, _hard_. Rey digs her nails into Ben’s shoulders and hisses, trying not to make too much noise.

“And infuriating.” Rey breathes out as his mouth moves lower, his teeth catching on the soft curve of her breast. 

“Completely, maddeningly, _infuriating.”_ The sharp bite of teeth into her flesh sends her spiralling. Her words are mangled into a desperate sound and she tries to grab a hold of him, needing him in an all-consuming way. 

“...and _difficult?”_ she continues as he laughs into her mouth, kissing her with more urgency than before. 

“Extremely difficult.” He agrees, mouthing at her jaw and she tries to keep him in one place because _she’s losing her mind._

Ben’s enormous hands grip her hips, “Get on your stomach.” She doesn’t need to do much because he flips her over, and she yelps into the duvet. 

A playful slap hits her backside and he groans. 

“Your ass is _everything_.” She can’t dwell on the praise because his fingers are at her entrance and she whimpers at the touch. 

Oh god. She’s disintegrating in front of him. And she doesn’t care. 

_“Please.”_ She grits out, trying to impale herself on his hand and becoming increasingly frustrated by how empty she is. He hums behind her, running his fingers across her slit. 

“I don’t think that’s _even close_ to how good you can beg for it.” Rey is shaking underneath his weight and her body aches for him. She can feel the pressure of one of his fingers pressing into her which makes them both stop breathing. 

Whoa, she’s in danger. How can a person's finger feel so good? She can feel him moving slowly and it’s divine torture - she’s wrapped her hands into his sheets as he begins to use a little more force. 

The rhythmic pressure increases with a second finger and she swears. God, he’s got big hands. The thought makes her weak and she’s annoyed that she’s naked and at his mercy. 

“You’re so tight. You need to relax.” His voice is soothing, but it makes her heartbeat spike. Argh. Anxiety bubbles up her chest as he moves inside her. _What is she doing?_ They didn’t talk about this. She shouldn’t have started something with someone who she barely knows. Someone who can hurt her. Very easily.

Her body must stop, and he pauses with her, aware of the disruption in the feedback loop they have created.

“What’s wrong?” Ben’s demeanour shifts instantly as if she had said it all out loud. 

“Nothing!” She whispers, but it's on his radar now and he pulls at her shoulders until she has to turn under his bracing form. 

“Are you sure?” He looks concerned and it’s confusing. 

“Yes, of course, I’m sure,” she grips the waist of his jeans, “I just... don't do this often. I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

Maybe she imagines the empathetic flash in his eyes, “Oh god. Don’t mistake my enthusiasm for experience.” The dark light in his eyes makes her smile despite her nerves. 

“It really feels like you _really know_ what you’re doing.” She accuses.

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He shifts enough to lay beside her, an arm draped over her centre. His thumb runs circles over her hip bone. It feels nice but she already wants his fingers back inside her. 

“I haven’t been that nice to you, have I?” Rey is shifting, sliding them into a reverse position - Ben’s back melting into the bed. She straddles his clothed form, hoping that he will start touching her again, anxiety momentarily forgotten. 

“Nicer than most, to be honest.” There’s hurt in his smile, she’s sure of it. But the way his eyes rake over her body makes her feel like an actual and literal gift from the heavens made just for him. She can feel him, hard and straining against his jeans and she rocks over the bulge ever so slowly. 

He hisses, hands coming to her hips with solid pressure. 

“May I?” She asks, playing with the hem of his t-shirt. She wants it _off._

His smile melts her insides, “Sure.” 

He helps her get himself out of the shirt and she runs her hands over his chest.

“Wow.” Her breath of surprise feels loud in the quiet of the room. She laughs, gliding her fingers over every ridge and muscle beneath her. 

“You could be a statue.” She breathes, and Ben laughs with her, and it’s the best sound she’s ever heard. 

Her hands continue to roam, so he joins her in exploration. His fingers slowly moving over every freckle, every curve. 

When his hand falls between her legs he rubs against her tentatively. 

“Is this okay?” 

“Yes.” She answers too quickly and he smiles. That leg-seizing smile that makes her dizzy and endeared and _soft_. 

He works at her for a moment, watching her as she leans into his touch. 

“You’re so beautiful when you come, did you know that?” It’s the sincerity of his voice that makes her blush, and she feels heat throughout her body. 

It’s like every atom she’s comprised of is vibrating for him. She feels hollow and wet and needy, and he catches the sensitive bundle of nerves under his thumb and she jolts from the pleasure. 

She tries to paw at the button of his jeans, but she can’t lift herself up long enough to get anywhere. He groans a bit at her attempt and has his button open and zipper down in lightning speeds. 

All she can think of is how insane and natural everything feels at the same time. While he’s distracted, she shimmies away from him and scoots down, pulling his pants down as she goes. 

The sizable erection that greets her like a boxer-covered present makes her jaw slack. 

“Jesus _Christ_ , Ben.” She is barely above a whisper, still aware of the people downstairs. 

“Now you know how I feel looking at _you.”_ He pulls at her arms and brings her back to his lips - stealing her breath straight out of her lungs. 

She grinds down into him with a frustrated noise catching in her throat. She pulls at his boxers and he lets her remove them with painfully slow precision. 

Ben Solo is a feast for the eyes, and that’s putting it mildly. 

Moving down his body, she reaches for his cock, now free of all offending fabric. He hisses as she circles her hand around him. He’s big. Bigger than she’s ever had, that’s for sure. Giving him a few experimental strokes, she leans down, catching her mouth on the head. Ben curses, stomach tensing under her fingers. She hums as she takes him deeper into her throat. His hands are in her hair, stroking her however he can as she sucks and licks down his shaft.

“Fuck, Rey.” He tugs gently on her hair to pull her back up to him but she resists, stroking him as she sucks lightly over as much of him as she can handle. 

His muscles tense under her touch and she moans at the way he bucks slightly into her mouth, desperate for more. 

“Rey, _shit_ , I need to be inside you.” 

“Are you not inside me now?” She asks, pulling off of his cock just enough to speak. His eyes are dark as he looks at her. 

She responds by sinking her mouth on him, a gleeful sound in her throat as he grips her hair tighter than before, his body struggling not to skewer her. 

“Rey. _Please.”_ He huffs, her mouth moving down his skin without hurry. 

She hums, “I thought _I was_ going to be the one who begged, hmm?” Her voice is light as she recalls his promise to her at the table. 

His laugh is dark, “We both know if anyone was going to beg, it was always going to be me.” Her chest aches and when he pulls at her arms again, she lets him. Let’s him hold her face as he kisses her. Let’s him sweep his tongue over hers and bite at her lip as his cock nudges between her legs. She’s breathing hard enough to pass out but still, she leans back slightly, just enough to re-position herself over him. 

She’s in a black hole as she lowers herself onto him. It stings and the pressure is _a lot_. After a moment he helps by lifting his hips and the angle just clicks - he’s seated to the hilt and she braces her hands on his chest, no air in her lungs. 

“Holy shit.” He breathes, hands coming to circle her wrists. Her eyes are closed, a slight note of pain on her features as she adjusts to him. 

So much of this is bad. 

  1. His family is downstairs.
  2. They aren’t using protection. 
  3. She might never hear from him again. 



But the only thought in her arrested brain function is _holy shit_. 

Rey moves slightly and the friction makes her delirious. She wants to scream from the overwhelming ecstasy that’s occurring, but instead, she bites her lip and tries to stifle her moan. 

Ben’s hands roam her body. They hold her hips as he fucks into her, slow and deep, and he squeezes her breasts with just enough aggression to send her arching back, body exposed as she begins to ride him. 

He’s hitting _every_ spot inside of her and she’s drunk on the feeling of him. She needs more, and can’t explain what she’s missing but he understands it without words and rolls them, so she is below him once again. She wraps her legs around his waist as he thrusts into her and she sees _stars_. 

If the sheer mass and weight of him were intoxicating before, now it’s an implosion. 

It almost hurts, but the pleasure building inside of her is only intensified by the sharp slap of skin against skin. She can feel herself contracting around him as he bottoms out, hitting her deeper and harder with every thrust. 

It’s blinding. 

“You feel so,” she stumbles over her words, “ _so_ good.” 

Rey grips his shoulders as his hips stutter against hers - the friction pushing her over. She lifts her face up towards him, instantly rewarded by his mouth catching her own, and the sound he makes causes her insides to twist and tighten. 

She presses her face into his neck to muffle the sound of her voice catching. She hears Ben swear as his pace hits a stride and she clenches around him, coming hard around his cock with a barely concealed moan. His control shatters as she falls apart around him and he joins her, coming deep in her core, her name on his lips. 

The world spins back into focus, and their breathing takes a few minutes to slow. 

“You’re unbelievable,” Ben mutters, pulling out of her with a hiss and pulling her against his chest. His arms lock around her and questions about tomorrow will have to wait. She feels warm and safe and at _home_. 

She must drift to sleep because she wakes up to the feeling of the bed shifting and she blinks into the darkness. Ben is putting on his jeans at the foot of the bed. He’s _leaving_. 

Rey bolts upright, fear flooding her senses, “Don’t go.” She’s glad for the dark, her pathetic plea is enough to make her burn to ash from embarrassment. 

She needn’t have worried. 

His hand runs down her calf and he squeezes her ankle, “I’m not leaving, sweetheart. I’m getting us some water.” 

“Oh. Right,” she clears her throat, “okay.” She’s at whisper-volume and he gives her ankle another squeeze before he slips out of the room. 

She takes her current level of adrenaline as a sign and finally tiptoes into his en-suite. _Spoiled brat._ Rey cleans herself up as best she can before heading back to bed. She slips under the covers, already freezing. 

Ben comes back into the room, two large glasses of water in his hands and she smiles into the pillow. 

“I also brought snacks.” He motions to a little bag under his arm and she sits up to take the water, feeling dazed and splintered.

“It’s cookies.” He continues, and joins her under his blankets, offering her first choice which she happily obliges. 

“You were right, by the way.” He mumbles. 

“About what specifically? Rey teases.

“The ending of my novel,” he searches Rey’s face in the low light, “I can do better. So I will.” 

This catches Rey’s attention, “Oh really? What will happen now?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to read it and let me know your thoughts via 427 pages of notes?” He pulls another cookie out of the bag.

“Tell me!”

Ben pauses. “They fight together. Join forces,” he exhales, “they are stronger with the other beside them, I think.” 

Rey nods, “I think so too.” 

They finish off the bag of cookies and Rey has never been so grateful for water in her entire life. 

“Come here.” He pulls at her so that she’s tightly folded against him like the world's most satisfied little spoon. To Rey, Ben’s body around her feels like sinking into a hot bath and she sighs into place. Running her hand over his arm around her stomach, she lets the heavy weight of sleep creep into her limbs. All of the infinite universes combined cannot compare to the endless awe she feels in his arms.

His mouth nips lazily at her ear, “I have to chauffeur my mom around the mall tomorrow for the Boxing Day sales. Will you come with me?” 

Her chest feels raw with hope and she is already nodding before she answers. 

“It’s a date.”   
  


They both fall asleep smiling. 

📚📚📚

_Someday soon we all will be together,_

_if the fates allow._

_Until then we'll have to muddle through somehow._

_So have yourself a merry little Christmas now._

_Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas | Judy Garland_

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, what fun it is to ride. Happy holidays to my Reylo family!
> 
> And none for JJ Abrams. ಠ_ಠ Suck my dick, JJ. 
> 
> If you enjoyed, please let me know! You can follow me on Tumblr [here.](https://grey-orchids.tumblr.com/)


End file.
